DURING a particularly arduous delay in an airport somewhere in Cyprus last year, my friends and I thought up 'The Island' . . . a sort of celebrity exile where our most hated tabloid fodder could be deported to.
Although subject to personal choosing, two common denominators prevailed. Second on the Dlist gangway was James Blunt (obviously), but sailing first class was Geri Halliwell. There are plenty of annoying celebrities out there, and eventually you come across someone who likes one of them for some reason or other. But never, never have I met anyone who has a soft spot for Geri.
How could they?
"Wouldn't it be great to have 'Scream If You Wanna Go Faster' as the first dance at our wedding?" Or, "actually, I thought her cameo in Sex And The City was not rubbish". Not.
Gonna. Happen.
Now Geri, resigning herself to pregnancy, has consulted a psychic for "mystic guidance" during her gestation. Aka, to find out who da daddy. Then she turned up at Posh's gaff for baby advice, leaving her phone number on a Post-It.
Posh appeared pleased saying, "I haven't got many friends, so it was great to catch up with Geri." Listen love, with friends like that. . .
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